Depths of Loyalty
by Heart-of-the-Phoenix
Summary: During the war of Draenor, the former arakkoan blade-dancer known as Krys was granted a place in the Horde following her defection. Now holding the rank of Blood Guard, the invasion of the Legion threatens to shatter Azeroth to its core. As the Legion threatens to overwhelm Azsuna, will Krys survive to report victory? Or will threats on all sides herald her demise? Three-part story
1. Chapter 1

Demons. There was only one word for the tide that washed across the land before her. Beings of hellish design that not even her mind could conjure up as a nightmare slaughtered all that stood in their path in the valley below - Horde and Alliance alike. Trying to snap herself out of this dazed, fearful trance - Krys opened her beak to speak before snapping it shut. Now was not the time to let fear reign, the region they held within Azsuna would be lost if they failed.

Glancing around, she tried helplessly to spot some weakness she and her charge could exploit in the demonic ranks. After a moment of searching, she spotted it. Snapping an order to the blood elven magistrix to her right, "Focus your fire not on the monsters below, but on the siegecraft they've summoned!"

Grunting quietly in surprise, the magistrix raised a single eyebrow. "The siegecraft? If we let up even for a second, the felbats will simply take their place, Blood Guard!" As if to reinforce her point, the blood elf motioned to the swarming bats above, all but threatening to break the defensive measures being held together by the mages below.

"Yes, the siegecraft!" Krys squawked, growing more and more irritated by the situation as the moments passed. No matter the path she went, it would require sacrifice - a faction she was not fond of in the least. "The cannons are eradicating our forces below, but they are not heavily defended! A single, focused strike on the binding crystals should shatter their hold to this world!"

"And what about us?!" the magistrix snapped, not even bothering to disguise her own rage anymore. "You're going to get us all killed, outsider! Just because you have the blessing of Durgas does not mean you have my trust, and I am not about to let you get my mages slaughtered because you want the glory of this kill! I would-"

"Enough!" Krys snapped, turning from the blood elven mage. "If you won't do what we must, then I will." Reaching for her wingblade, she noticed the magistrix reach for her own dagger, as if she thought the arakkoa was planning on killing her. Not giving the fool a second thought, Krys took off with a run, leaping from the cliffside and spreading her wings.

As she soared towards the first cannon, she could see the forces below. With the constant bombardment, the Horde and Alliance were being pushed back. Step by step, the demonic tide gained the upper hand. She would have to hurry if there was any hope of keeping this hold.

Diving in for the first cannon, she spotted one eredar summoner that was guarding the siegecraft and the crystal. With a squawk of fury, she launched herself into the demon as he chanted. Cutting down in a swift strike, she cut deeply into his left arm whilst raking across his face with her taloned hand.

As he yelled in rage and pain, she felt an invisible force throw her back into the rocky cliff wall as he snapped a single spell. The wingblade still embedded in his left arm, Krys spotted a portal open behind him he finished his chant. Three felstalkers rushed from the black portal, snapping as they lunged at the fallen arakkoa.

Slipping to the side, she raked one felstalker across the throat with her talons, leaving it to die as she tried lunging at the summoner again. If she didn't stop the source, there could be many more demons to follow. Hearing him yell in pain as he pulled her weapon from his arm, Krys decided to use this to her advantage.

Raking down across his face again with a taloned hand, she took out one of his eyes with an enraged screech. Ducking his following blow, she threw the flailing demon back with a single tackle. Darting with all the speed she could muster, she lunged for her wingblade as it slipped from the demon's hand.

Whipping around, she cut down just in time to kill the second felstalker as it tried to move in for the kill. Leaping toward the wounded eredar, she let out a yell of pain as felfire scorched her feathers and flesh on the side of her torso. Seeing the eredar grinning wickedly, she noticed him channeling the ability, forcing it to expand across her side as it threatened to devour her like kindling to the fire.

Screeching in pain and fury, she noticed the final felstalker moving in for the kill. Rather than attempting to stop it, she waited until it was upon her before launching herself into the beast - screaming in pain as the fire continued to spread. Grabbing the beast with all her strength, she threw it into the fallen eredar.

As the beast and warlock collided, she noticed the flames subside with the diverted focus. Doing her best to ignore the striking pain as she moved, Krys darted towards the warlock one final time, slashing down with all her strength as she severed the eredar's head from his body. With the death of the summoner, the final felstalker started to fade back into the Twisting Nether once more.

Panting heavily, she turned to face the first cannon. Before all her adrenaline faded and the pain took over, there was still one more thing she had to do. Rushing back to the cannon, she used what strength she could muster to turn it towards the second cannon. Activating it, she launched the fel-green cannonfire at the second siegecraft - watching as the ground underneath it started to shatter from the explosion of the binding crystal.

Moving it a final time, she turned towards the third cannon, repeating the process as the eredar commanding it just a moment too late caught on. Watching with a quiet grunt of approval as the explosion overtook the eredar and cannon alike, she looked to face the binding crystals for this cannon. As much as she wanted to make use of it further, firing upon the demonic forces instead, she knew her own strength wouldn't hold out long enough to give the demons a taste of their own medicine.

Grabbing her wingblade, she squawked in surprise and pain as a large, orange fireball nearly missed her, striking the binding crystal with a sickening strike. Unable to do anything to stop it, the following explosion threw Krys back as pain overwhelmed her. Falling into the ocean below, she could only let herself wonder what had happened as her vision faded into nothingness.

Withered. The young Nightfallen watched with a sigh as he observed the fallen exiles heading towards the beach. It was the fate that would befall them all if they weren't careful. Each and every day was a struggle, but there were even days when Tyhir himself couldn't help but wonder why they bothered.

Each day he let himself contemplate that, he proceeded to mentally berate himself later. He had fought for so long that he was not about to let himself become one of the Withered. For as long as he was able, he would continue to fight.

With a quiet sigh, Tyhir started to follow the Withered. Perhaps they had found some source of magic that washed up on the beach from the floating city to the south. Maybe if he was lucky, it could feed his thirst until he could find another pocket of mana crystals.

As he got closer, he saw what it was they found. Some sort of wild beast, perhaps? It to some extent, resembled those bird-like beasts that occasionally tried nesting on the beaches. Falcosaurs, weren't they called? Shaking it off, he frowned. No, this one was different. Looking carefully, he spotted that this one was adorned in some sort of light armour. And then he spotted its side.

Dark burns extended along its side - wisps of fel-green markings extending along the burns like a sickening scar. Grimacing lightly at the fate of his own home, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the creature. If these scars were caused by the demonic warlocks, then they certainly knew how to inflict pain.

Frowning slight, he considered his options. He could just leave. The Withered would never notice his presence, and he refused to kill sentient beings for his energy, as he supposed this person likely was due to having gotten on the bad side of the demons and its armour.

Sighing quietly, he shook his head. At the same time, could he just leave this being to its fate? Apathy was part of the reason he was cast out of his own home - when those he thought to be his allies turned their backs on him because it was convenient. Would he be any better than them if he did this?

Clenching his fists as he thought, he glanced up at the approaching Withered with a resigned sigh. No, he didn't think so. Muttering a slight chant under his breath, he summoned a spectral arcane entity. If he hurried, perhaps this would distract them long enough…

As it moved closer to the Withered, it did catch their attention. Without waiting even another moment, Tyhir darted for the unconscious creature. Once close enough, he drew faint markings in the sand around them - chanting a few words with each symbol. Finishing with a silent nod, he glanced to the unconscious figure with grunt.

Watching the Withered overwhelm the arcane entity as the energy of his teleportation spell finally caught the attention of the fallen, he sighed with a slight grimace. The scene of a beach changed to that of a cavern as he slumped back against the rocky wall, hoping no Withered that might've been wandering near his makeshift home sensed the arcane pull on this side of things.

Nodding once after moments of silence had passed, he rested his head against the rocky cavern wall. He'd have to find another source of mana soon, that spell took a lot out of him. Shaking a slight daze off, he glanced at the still unconscious being with a sigh. "Don't worry, you're as safe as you can be for now. I just hope that's enough."


	2. Chapter 2

Voices… She heard voices, but they sounded scrambled, as if she was listening to a conversation through a thick wall. Letting out a pained squawk, Krys glanced around at her surroundings - trying desperately, she tried to recall what events had led to this point.

She was leading a sect of the Horde Offensive in Azsuna, taking the fight to the demons in the Southern regions. She took out the cannons laying waste to the Horde and Alliance forces in the valley below. And she was injured in the fight, the fel-infused fire of the warlock scorched and threatened to devour her - Krys winced slightly as another sharp jolt of pain shot through her side.

But after that? What happened…? Krys closed her eyes in thought, trying to recall. Suddenly, she opened them with a jolt as memories rushed into her mind. A strike of flame colliding with the crystal, an explosion throwing her into the abyss of the ocean below.

Glancing around, she took in the surroundings as she let her mind wander. She was remembering what happened, yet still questions flowed through her mind like the torrent of water that drug her further out into the ocean. Who did the flame belong to? And how did she end up in this cave?

She heard a rustling to her right. Wearily glancing in that direction, she noticed a figure standing in the maw of the cave. Vaguely, she resembled an elf, yet still he held his differences. Krys could have sworn she heard of this kind once before, in the reports from Azsuna…

Nightfallen, she recalled. Elves of Suramar that deformed when they were stripped of the source of energy. There was a small collection of them in Azsuna a few weeks earlier that sought to feed upon the leylines, one report stated. Was this a remnant of that sect? If so, why wasn't he trying to kill her? The reports stated they were hostile, didn't they?

"Ah, you're awake," the Nightfallen sighed quietly, speaking in a heavily accented form of Common. "Good. Tell me, can you understand this?"

Opening her beak to respond, Krys winced as she found herself unable to - her throat sore beyond measure. Mentally swearing, she resorted to nodding once to give her respond.

Seemingly satisfied with this response, the figure moved to grab a small vial. Handing it to the wounded arakkoa with a single nod, he moved to sit back against the rocky wall. Noticing her confusion, he chuckled quietly. "Drink it. This'll help with your throat."

Tensing slightly despite herself, she noticed him laugh humourlessly. "Not poison. If I was hostile, why didn't I do anything before you were awake?"

Thinking for a moment, Krys saw a bit of sense with that analysis. With a nearly silent grunt, she moved to drink the liquid as instructed. If he was hostile, there was little she could do to defend, poison or not. And if she was going to find out what is going on, she'd need her voice to do that.

"Now," the figure started, tilting his head slightly. "Relax. I have some questions for you, and you'll need your energy. Even with the potion, it'll still be sore to speak, so we might be here for a while. Answer me when you feel you're able. Who are you?"

For the next three hours, Krys and the Nightfallen - who she learnt was called Tyhir - conversed. She explained to him her story, starting from her introduction to the Horde in her birth home and explaining to the battle that nearly cost Krys her life.

In turn, Tyhir explained his story - about how he was forced into exile when he sought to steal some excess Arcwine to transport to those who were most at risk of Withering. He told her about the fate of his city in the Legion's command, and about how he had been surviving in the wilds to the best of his ability. The Nightfallen ended his story by explaining how he found Krys washed up on the beach, the threat of the Withered moving ever so closer to her.

Finishing his story, Tyhir let out a weary sigh as he reached for his waterskin. Using the pause in the conversation to ask a question of her own, Krys tilted her head curiously. "Why? Why did you decide to save me instead of letting the Withered have their way?"

The Nightfallen chuckled wryly as he closed his eyes for a few moments, falling silent. As moment after moment passed, Krys tried to refrain from feeling a bit of impatience. After a few more moments, Tyhir started to speak.

"You ask why?" he started, opening his eyes as he glanced towards the confused arakkoa. "I won't lie, I did consider my options. But, in the end, there was no real choice. You were injured, Krys. Everyone should have a chance at life - it is the beasts like those wretched demons that take this chance without a single thought.

"This is why I had to save you. I will not stoop to the same level as the demons, nor will I be like many of my people and simply look the other way. If we want to build a better life, then we must take the steps to do so, would you not agree?"

Krys sighed for a quiet moment. Taking the steps to build a better life, was that not she did herself and her comrades when she brought them to the Horde? Shaking it off, she let her gaze focus on the Nightfallen, contemplating for just a moment before opening her beak to speak. "You wish for aid in freeing your city from the Legion."

Tyhir let himself chuckle wryly for a brief moment, catching the lack of an inquisitive tone in her statement. "Yes, I won't lie. Aid would not be… discouraged. But above else, I would ask a single favour from you. What you do with your time next will be your choice, and your choice alone. I will not try to influence it."

"What is this favour, Tyhir?" she tilted her head in curiosity as she glanced around the room, taking in the scene. Given what he had here, there wasn't all too much she could think of that she could do to aid him in this present state. What could he want?

Tyhir got to his feet almost silently, a slight shake to his body, as he strode over to a small chest. Opening it, she saw a few Mana crystals within. Breaking it, he proceeded to drain the ancient energy within until the shaking ceased. With a sigh, he glanced to Krys with a nod. "What I need is aid in… reaching a location. Although it is still small, rumour has sparked of a rebellion growing in the recent weeks. Although the First Arcanist was killed when she tried to spark the last coup before the Legion could claim Suramar, it would seem that someone has taken up where she's left off.

"I wish to join this rebellion, Krys. On my own, I can do little but be a pest to the demonic forces. A gnat all they need to is swat off. But working as one with the other exiles… If we can get the support, we could potentially become a threat to their rule.

"Fortunately and unfortunately, their main headquarters is hidden well. I know the rough area of it, however. I've gathered that much in my own searches. But there are many, many Withered in the regions outside of this. I will need aid reaching this place, and defending myself from the Withered. Any spells I might cast would draw them light moths to the flame, and spell casting is one of my only strengths.

"If you will help defend me in my search for their headquarters, or in my search for one of their sentries, you will not only have my gratitude, but you will also have my support should you need it, once this war against the demons comes to an end." Shaking it off with a quiet sigh, he let himself glance to the land outside of the cavern they hid in. "What do you say, Krys?"

The wounded arakkoa let herself remain silent for a few moments as she closed her eyes in thought, taking in the request. Would she be able to in her present state? What of her own people? What of the Horde? Grunting quietly, she opened her eyes as she focused on the still waiting Nightfallen. "I will need a few more days at least to recover enough to travel. But I will help you, Tyhir." With a quiet, amused squawk, she added on, "Let's send the demons in this land flying back to the Twisting Nether before they can even see what is happening, hm…?"

Letting himself chuckle quietly, he sat back down - leaning back against the cool, rocky surface of the cave wall. "If only it were that easy. Regardless, I thank you. For now, rest. We will both need our strength in the days to come."


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next several days, the two discussed the upcoming mission - planning the details out as thoroughly as they could in their present situation. Despite the severity of the mission, the plan was deceptively simple.

They would travel in the day, Tyhir had decided. Despite the risk of being spotted more easily, it also came with a distinctive advantage - it would make scoping out their terrain and hopefully finding the rebellion that much easier.

The trick came with weaponry, however. When Krys was thrown to the ocean, so too was her wingblade. Although the tides had decided to spare her, the blade was not so lucky, having likely been swallowed by the devouring waters. Tyhir himself had only a small, elven dagger for weaponry besides his spellwork.

The trick came with weaponry, however. When Krys was thrown to the ocean, so too was her wingblade. Although the tides had fortunately decided to spare her, the blade was not as lucky, having likely been swallowed by the devouring waters. Tyhir himself had only a small, elven dagger for weaponry; besides the spellwork he wanted to avoid having to use.

She considered using her talons - as they alone were still rather dangerous - but talons alone could be overwhelmed quite easily by numbers. With her injuries included, she was rather hesitant in resorting to only this.

To make up for this trouble, Tyhir had spent one afternoon searching for a patrol from Surmar. In order to find the rebellion, Elisande had been sending patrols to find the lair of these exiles. With proper timing, he had managed to lure the loyalists into a group of Withered - once the fighting was over, he swiftly dispatched the survivors with a swift display of spellwork, taking advantage of their weakened states.

Gathering the weapons, he brought them back for Krys to test. Although she found them to be a bit clumsy given what she was used to, she was grateful for the gesture none-the-less. In the upcoming mission, any weapon as better than nothing. In the end, she settled for an enchanted blade - dark blue energy all but radiating off of the shal'dorei craftsmanship.

When the day finally came, the two started off to the east. For the first couple of hours, they stayed as well hidden as they could manage with situation at hand - narrowly evading Suramar patrols and some of the larger groups of Withered. In time, they made it to the region Tyhir had assumed the headquarters to be located in, given his own reconnaissance. Meredil, he had called the region.

Glancing around at the ruins and overgrowth, she refused to let herself relax. They may have found their way to the region, but they weren't safe yet. At every moment, she half expected a swarm of Withered to surge from the nearby valley or a patrol from Suramar to spot them as they searched. Even the wildlife could be their end if they weren't careful - she recalled Tyhir make mention of a nest of ley-infused basilisks within this region.

Minute after minute, they searched. Within time, minutes became a half an hour. An hour. Hours. Krys felt herself tense as the sun eventually started to make its descent. In their position, they had no cover for the night - and she did not have enough of a grasp of the land to know what sort of predators may come out with the sun's descent. Rakshar, or Draenor as the Horde called it, certainly had many nocturnal beasts that were quite content to prey on those lost in the wilds.

Almost as if to confirm her fears, she spotted movement in the shadows. Whipping around, she raised her blade just in time to meet the blade of another. Whilst the blades remained in lock, Krys let out a screech in an attempt to catch her attacker off-guard. Mentally hissing in irritation as the attacker lept back, redoubling the attack instead, she tried to search for Tyhir in the side of her vision.

Nothing. Where was he? Before she could have a chance to think anything else of it, the attacker leapt forward again, blade at the ready to strike. Ducking, she felt her wounds sear in pain as her muscles all but cried out. Shrugging it off, she swiped at the hilt of the attacker's blade with her arm. If she could disarm her opponent, it would certainly tip the scales.

She heard her opponent growl in irritation. Although she had managed to keep a hold on her weapon, the strike forced her back a few steps. Snapping something at Krys in a language she did not understand, the attacker lunged again - feinting with a sidestep to the right before swiping again with her own blade.

Raising her own blade in a defensive movement, both combatants were caught in a brief moment of surprise as a figure rushed from one of the nearby tunnels, shouting something in what Krys assumed to be the same language the attacker spoke in.

Glancing sideways, she saw the figure rushing towards them - Tyhir at her side. Like Tyhir, this figure was evidently a Nightfallen. Despite the gaunt features and weathered appearance, this figure held an aura of command - not something too unlike the Warchief. But unlike Sylvanas, this figure did not feel as… ominous.

Snapping something else at the attacker, she noticed the armoured figure hesitate slightly before sheathing her weapon, nodding once to the newcomer. Having turned her attention to the arakkoa, the commanding figure spoke in a similar form of accented Common as Tyhir did. "You… You have come with the outlanders from the city in the sky to the south, did you not?"

Nodding once in response, the figure nodded in kind before turning - beckoning the three to follow her into the tunnel she had arrived from. Despite her unease at the situation, she noticed Tyhir nod once as if to signal it was alright. She grunted quietly as she moved to follow the party, refusing to let herself relax incase of any other ambushes, however.

After a few moments of walking, the tunnel opened up into a large chamber - at the centre of which stood something akin to a well and two curving staircases leading to a lower level. What caught her off-guard however was what looked to be similar to a sprouting tree floating above the energy of the well. Pushing it aside, she glanced around the chamber - taking it in as well as taking in any potential ways of escape she could use, or any bit of the environment she could use to her advantage should it be necessary.

Walking up towards the well, the figure turned around with a weary smile. "Welcome to Shal'Aran, Krys of the Horde. I apologise for the… rough welcome. Mylia can be rather cautious when it comes to outlanders - in some ways, she can be even more hostile than Valtrois."

The Nightfallen was momentarily interrupted by another figure somewhere nearby - who she guessed to be Valtrois given the tone - causing the commander to chuckle wryly. Shaking it off, she continued with a small nod. "Do not think though we view all outlanders as threats. I would not be alive if it wasn't for the aid of another outlander from your city, nor would many of us here without the outlander's continued aid over these past few months.

"But, where are my manners?" She extended her hand with a nod. "I am Thalyssra, leader of this movement to retake Suramar."

Moving to shake Thalyssra's hand, a bit of surprise covered the arakkoa's features. "Thalyssra? Tyhir told me of you," she squawked quietly. "He told me you were betrayed and killed near the time of the initial rebellion."

Grimacing, the First Arcanist sighed. "As were the thoughts of many, including my betrayer. In a quite literal sense, I was backstabbed prior to our attempted coup. But I was left for dead, tossed into the roaring waters. I washed to the shore not long after; alive, but barely.

"I watched as the shield around my beloved city fell - I watched the the demons poured in through fel green portals and overtook the city in a single night. I could do nothing but watch." An expression of anger overtook her features at the thought of the tide of corrupted that took her home. "I pulled myself from the shore and searched for a way to survive. I wandered. I started to Wither, becoming the Nightfallen you see now.

"But in time, I found aid. I sent a message out - hoping on hope that an enemy of the Legion would see my call for aid. As luck would have it, one from the city in the sky did indeed see it. Sending a champion of their own, I was aided. They helped me recover from my injuries, as did they aid in finding and setting up our operation in Meredil. With the help of outlanders, we have survived. And together, we will see to the liberation of Suramar one day, I am certain."

Taking it all in, Krys felt a swirling of emotions. She surprised, impressed, and yet still cautious all at once. Trying to shake it off, she glanced to the Nightfallen curiously. "What are your plans moving forward, Thalyssra?"

"We seek to gather our forces. Regroup, aid those still within the walls of the city, and see to the protection of those without. In time, we will sabotage the demonic incursion at the Felsoul, and put an end to Elisande's destructive rule. It will take time, but our plans will come to fruition. They must."

"What if," Krys begun, speaking slowly as she mentally formulated a plan to do just this. "What if I could offer aid? I do not speak only of myself, but with numbers. And within those numbers, many who excel at sabotage and assassination?"

Smiling lightly, Thalyssra nodded once. "I would be honoured to accept aid. You have proven yourself an ally already by helping one of our own to Shal'Aran. If you wish to join us, you will be welcomed, Krys."

Nodding once with a weary squawk, "Then join you, we shall. I must travel to Azsuna before we can, however. My forces were engaging the demons there - I must ensure they are alright. Once I do so, I will bring those the Horde can spare with me back to Meredil, and we shall offer you what aid we possibly can."

"We have recently been granted the aid of the survivors of the Moon Guard. Although it isn't much, they have brought with them a handful of hippogryphs they managed to save from assault on their hold. I will have one of them readied. Perhaps this can aid you on your journey back."

"Perhaps indeed." Bowing her head slightly in thanks, Krys glanced up with a small, wry chuckle. "Thank you for your aid."

Chuckling quietly herself, she shook her head. All but echoing the arakkoa's words, Thalyssra dipped her own head in thanks. "And thank you for your aid, Krys of the Horde. This will not be forgotten."


End file.
